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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26832391">Start Over</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Clone High</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Joanfk, i have no idea where im going with this but im gonna have fun as i do it, im a long time writer but this is my first fic ever!!!! i hope you like it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:22:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,673</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26832391</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"We can start with all the things that turn us out and we can go right down the list and throw them out. Can we start over?" </p><p>A bit of a further look into things that happened between canon JFK and Joan moments. A little messy, but I hope you enjoy regardless.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joan of Arc/JFK (Clone High)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>110</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Start Over</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>god i dont know where im going with this but i sure am going somewhere. this is my first fic ever and i do NOT have beta readers so take all this as you will- comments and kudos and criticism is Very Welcome!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first hints of summer wind on her exposed arms made the sensation of ice-cold concrete against her palms a little more tolerable. Her chest was still heaving, fighting to catch its breath after a frenzied fit of undressing and throwing every last piece of skimpy red dress and handpicked lingerie as far into the depths of the school dumpsters as they could go. She’d combed her digits down her hair in desperate, messy hand motions, strands of distinct red hair catching and tangling themselves in between her fingers as she fought to wipe and smooth away every last bit of Cleo’s impact. She fought and clawed and tore away every piece of the mask she’d been forced to donn, tearing away any semblance of restraint she’d had with it.</p><p>Her eyes, sore and tearful, scanned the back alley in a desperate search to focus on something, anything, really, other than the array of students that blissfully danced away inside. The sky had gotten darker since she’d first walked in- it would have been a bit jarring, even, had she not been so preoccupied with shedding the persona that now sat amongst week-old lunches and the remains of failed science experiments. The steps she’d so ungracefully thrown herself against had finally started to warm up against her body heat, almost allowing her to ignore the way they jutted so painfully into her back. </p><p>She was surrounded entirely by rusting wire fences, shifting old cement, desperately in need of repaving, and heaps of garbage, soon to be collected by whatever minimum wage paying government worker was desperate enough to sign the NDAs pushed out by the shadowy figures that ruled over the school. She couldn’t have ended up in a single place more fitting for the thoughts that slammed against the back of her mind. This night had confirmed the anxieties she’d so dreadfully hoped were untrue- she was always going to be second best. There was always going to be a girl prettier than her, there was always going to be someone braver than her, better than her. She’d finally started to learn that no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she changed, she would never be the girl who got the guy. </p><p>The girl on the steps was pulled from her thoughts of teenage angst as she felt the meat locker’s chilled air run down her back, a shadow falling down over her as a figure lingered midway between muffled music and the ambient noise of crickets and windblown garbage bags. She twisted around to apologize to the unfortunate person who’d managed to stumble into her little bubble of anger and self pity, only to feel her searching gaze steel at the sight of a familiar half-lidded stare. She let out a huff, turning back around- hoping that if she was cold and uncaring enough, her prom date would retreat back and find a girl more willing to put up with his berating womanizer attitude.</p><p>“Aren’t you supposed to be with your other dates?” Her throat tightened as emotion threatened to spill out, a display she’d much rather avoid in front of the man who likely cared as much about her as he did his other four girls he’d brought to prom. Her eyes settled on her combat boots, unfocused and blurry as the wind drew out the moisture in her stare.</p><p>“Actually, uh-” He murmured, stepping out of the doorway and down the steps, “Catherine the Great is uh- heaving bile into the hot dog vat.” His gaze shifts, his confused smile fading into a frown. “And I, er, uh- gave the Bronte sisters to the Three Stooges.” He gestures over towards the door, not that she was able to see. He hovers a step behind her silently for a moment, green eyes washing over his date. His gaze is only interrupted by a quick glance over towards the dumpster, wheels turning as he clearly tries to form together the sequence of events he’d missed with her sudden change in attire. </p><p>“Y’know, I used you, Kennedy.” She fights the urge to register him, to look back and really swallow the fact that she finally had someone here, staring her over with a concerned empathetic look, registering that for once in her life, someone cared about her over any other girl. She fights the urge to register that that someone isn’t Abe. “I used you to try to make Abe jealous.” She spits out her confession- something he undoubtedly already knew. A small part of her almost hoped that it would hurt him, drive him away. Hoped that he’d leave her to wallow in the depths of her own self pity. </p><p>She doesn’t give him a chance to respond before she lets out a muffled yell, gripping her hair in tightened fists, eyes squeezing shut as the sharp pain shoots under her skin. What was she doing? What did she want? “I’m such a girl!” Her hands shakily ungrip and fall to her knees, arching herself forward in an anguished, embarrassed frenzy. She can feel her date sit down beside her, soft green gaze looking her over in a bout of emotion. She doesn’t pretend to know what it means- what this means. </p><p>She wonders if it’s easier, not knowing. For the past year, she’s thrown herself at Abe knowing full well that there was nothing there to reciprocate. She was constantly fighting against the grain, fighting for any chance, any sliver of hope that might have meant she was wrong. It was a constant losing battle against this sick, horrible sensation of hope. </p><p>She blinks as a warm hand gently places itself on her shoulder, narrowing her brows curiously in turn. “Exactly.” She shifts, as he speaks, continuing to avert her eyes. “Y’er a real knock-out Betty, Joan.” He pauses, brows furrowing in a rare look of genuine sympathy. “N’a better Betty when y’er not faking being a slutty whore.” Her breath hitches in surprise, finally prompting her attention away from her boots and onto the face of the man beside her. She looks at him for the first time- really, actually looks at him. She notices the way he takes her in, actually looking at her rather than through her. She notices the way the moonlight bounces off of his features, sharp and defined. She notices the way his bowtie leans ever so slightly to the right, the way his clothes fall around his defined chest. She notices the fact that, right now, he could be inside that meat locker with any other girl, much prettier, more popular, easier than her. She notices the fact he’s out here with her regardless.</p><p>“You mean...” She stutters, lip quivering as she begins to smile- genuinely smile- for the first time that night. “...you like me? When I’m just me?” A concept so similar shouldn’t provoke so much feeling out of her, but it was hard not to attach herself to the words that left her mouth when she’d spent the better half of a year doing everything she could to separate herself from herself, throwing herself into any possible thing that could give her a chance, make her that much more appealing. It was only beginning to occur to her that through it all, those things were never her. Presidential campaigns, community service, makeovers, that wasn’t her- and she was sick of pretending that it was. </p><p>“Ring-a-ding-ding.” The sympathetic look quickly melts into one far more light-hearted, shifting back to gesture with his hands once again. “That chowderhead Lincoln jus’ can’t see it without some bozo makeover.” He scoffs, setting his hands behind him as he leans back to take in the late evening stars. “I tell ya, that guy’s head is so full of chowder, he should have a bread bowl for a beard!” He relents into his metaphor, his mouth brightening into a laugh on the behalf of his own joke. </p><p>She looks away, just sore enough that she can’t laugh along quite yet, but she can feel her spirits lighten nonetheless. For once, someone understood- someone sympathized with her. He wasn’t trying to berate her, he wasn’t ignoring her, he wasn’t mocking her- he wasn’t even sexualizing her, something she honestly thought she’d never say about any of the boys that made up the Clone High alumni. Right now, all he seemed to care about was reminding her of her worth, showing her that she had meaning outside her relationship with anyone else. She’d never truly felt that before. </p><p>Joan closed her eyes, squeezing them tight as she gathered her courage. “Hey, Kennedy.” She lifts herself up, hesitating only to brush the dust off her pants. “Thank you.” She blinks down at him, lowering a hand to help him off the stairs. She could see pause in him too as he analyzed her hand before warily taking it, just in case it was yet another attempt to shove him back in retaliation for his boyish behavior. There was no malice, however, in the way she gripped his hand, pulling him closer to her body than anyone else had ever gotten. They locked eyes, swaying on their feet as the summer wind nipped at their faces. She saw her own starstruck gaze reflected in his and felt her heart beat in a way it never did with Abe. There was no frustration, no anger, no sadness between the two of them. There was only a mutual understanding that couldn’t muster itself into words if it tried. </p><p>Joan was done chasing hope. </p><p>She pressed herself forward before she had the chance to tangle herself up in her doubts, stumbling into his arms. He didn’t hesitate in catching her, in lifting her up and meeting her boldness with a risk of his own. Their lips crashed together, falling into one another and reciprocating every scrap of fear, anxiety, and possibility they threw at each other. </p><p>She was starting over- and she was going to do it right this time.</p>
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